


The Artist and the Athlete

by DarkReyna16



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: M/M, Somehow it works, betcha never considered this pairing before, if men loving men makes you uncomfortable this ain't a fic for you, shoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkReyna16/pseuds/DarkReyna16
Summary: When Nathanael begins to doubt his talent and self-worth as an artist, Kim volunteers to help him get back on track by modeling for a sketch of his. The closer they grow, the more they begin to realize that it isn't just each other's talent that they admire...





	1. Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a cheer-up fic for siderealSandman, and then it turned into something so much more that I ended up loving? I finally remembered that I hadn't posted it here yet, so here you go, my pet rarepair for all to enjoy~
> 
> ~Reyna

            His pencil danced across his sketchbook, but not in the usual way. Rather that creating anything, it appeared to be an unconscious thing, Nathanael’s head propped up on his fist as he stared blankly down at his sketchbook, as if waiting for an idea to form. His hair was down today, too—it was common knowledge that Nathanael liked to work with his hair up, since he needed both eyes clear to really commit to his craft.

            There was no commitment today, though—only a pinched brow and a slight pout, as if whatever he was trying to work on was being difficult, and Nathanael had no idea how to win its cooperation.

            When he jogged past the agitated artist for the third time, Kim decided to pause his training to see what was up.

            “Yo, Nath!” He called, announcing his presence with a shout and a hearty wave as he jogged towards the table Nathanael was sitting. He looked up, smiling vaguely as Kim took the seat across from him.

            “Hey, Kim.” He swept his red hair behind an ear, but the gesture was useless; his bangs fell right back into his face again, but other than a brief roll of his eyes, he let them be. “What’s up?”

            “Oh, you know—gotta keep up my speed if I wanna keep my track scholarship.” He shrugged with a grin that hovered just over the border of cheeky. “Also gotta keep my strength up since I basically carry my team.”

            Nathanael chuckled, sliding his sketchbook shut. Kim noticed.

            “Not feelin’ the artsy vibes today?”

            Nathanael’s brow puckered.

            “Not especially,” he confessed, running a frustrated hand through his hair with a sigh. “Not for lack of trying or anything—I guess I’ve just been uninspired lately.”

            “Aw, that sucks,” Kim said sympathetically, wiping sweat from his brow with the towel slung around his neck.

            “It does. Especially since I have a project due soon.” Nathanael folded his hands under his chin, slim fingers interlocking as he scowled down at his sketchbook. Kim grinned. If anything, the dude definitely had the ‘brooding artist’ look down pat. “I think I may need a new muse.”

            “Don’t you have to sell your soul for one of those?”

            Nathanael glanced up at Kim, something like a deadpan crossing his features. Kim raised his eyebrows.

            “What?”

            “…You’re not going to make the obligatory ‘red head, no soul’ joke here?”

            Kim blinked.

            “Huh?”

            “Never mind,” Nathanael dismissed the issue, relief taking over his expression now as he smiled. “Just…some of my American friends have imposed this, uh, ‘view’ on me.” He frowned again. “It got old real quick.”

            Kim grinned.

            “Okay, but it’s probably better than being asked if the curtains match the carpet all the time…am I right?”

            “Oh god,” Nathanael groaned, dropping his face into a hand. “Add the nickname ‘Rusty’, and you have the unholy trio of red-head jokes.”

            “Isn’t there also something from America about an orphan named Annie—”

            “Don’t,” Nathanael said, giving Kim a sharp warning glance. Kim snickered.

            “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I didn’t give you the red hair.”

            Nathanael rolled his eyes, idly tapping his pencil on his sketchbook once again, which drew Kim’s attention to it once more.

            “So what’s this project you have to do?”

            Nathanael blinked, looking like Kim had pulled him out of some other void of thought.

            “Oh…it’s an anatomy piece,” he said. “The concept isn’t difficult—I’ve done plenty of anatomy pieces before…” He frowned again, pale skin wrinkling. “But my professor says my style’s stagnating.”

            “Rude,” Kim said with a frown, which brought a slight smile to Nathanael’s face.

            “Thanks, but it’s important to be able to take criticism about things like this, even if it isn’t always something I want to hear.” Nathanael sighed, tucking his pencil behind his ear for safe keeping as he propped his head up with his elbows, frowning down at his sketchbook once more. “But I’m not sure what to do. I want to branch out and challenge myself, but how do I do that?”

            “Why don’t you just ask him exactly what he’s looking for?”

            To this, Nathanael let out a bitter laugh that had Kim cringing. Wow…in all the time he had known him, he had never heard Nathanael make a sound so dispirited…

            “It’s an art class,” he pointed out after a moment, giving Kim a dry smile. “ _Nothing_ is exact. You have to feel your way through it in order to truly create…but with this…”

            His lips twisted, and Kim was startled to find him looking so… _unsure._

            “…I don’t know,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away from his sketchbook to look away, into the distance. “I’m starting to question more and more whether or not I really want this to be my career, if I get stuck on something as simple as this…”

            Kim stared, his mouth hanging open. Nathanael, the boy who never went anywhere without at least _one_ sketchpad and a set of pencils with him since primary school…not doing art?

            The thought was so inconceivable that Kim was seized with a sudden desire to correct this problem, no matter what it took.

            “Nath…you _love_ art,” Kim fervently reminded his friend, his hands splayed flat against the table as he leaned in, staring at his broody artist friend, who returned his gaze with some surprise. “You quitting art would be like _me_ quitting track! It just wouldn’t be right, man! You have a gift, and it’d be stupid to throw it away! I’d hate to see you give up your passion just ‘cause you’re struggling with something so _temporary._ ”

            Nathanael blinked, red slowly painting his cheeks as he glanced away from Kim, a little, shy smile crossing his face. The sight amused Kim—university had definitely helped Nathanael come out of his shell, but it was the tiny gestures that pleased Kim, because they reassured him that Nathanael would never change too much.

            “Uh…thanks,” he replied quietly, but all too soon, that smile turned back into a grimace. “Still…it would be nice to work through this block.”

            “Right.” Kim sat straight again and folded his arms, frowning as he put on his Mr. Fix-It cap and tried to figure out how to assist his struggling friend. Anatomy, huh… “Is this, like, one of those naked drawing classes or something?”

            Kim half-expected Nathanael to blush…but he didn’t. Instead, there was a thoughtful gleam in his eye as he gripped his chin in thought.

            “I wouldn’t classify in that way, although we do have nude models from time to time,” he admitted, and Kim raised his eyebrows. The way he said that with no trace of embarrassment…Kim wasn’t sure if he could pull off that level of professionalism. He was almost envious.

            “So, what? You need a model?”

            Nathanael shrugged.

            “Not in the way you mean. I came here to sketch people passing by, so it’s not like I need someone who’ll stay still for hours at a time…but maybe that’s my problem?” He closed his eyes and frowned, and Kim had to bite back a laugh at the way his brooding intensified with just two simple gestures. “I prefer to sketch things in motion more than stills…capturing a brief piece of someone’s life like that is fun, and still models feel more like I’m staging my art rather than creating it…but if motion sketches are _all_ I do, I can’t really improve, can I…?”

            He was talking himself in circles, getting so quiet that he was just muttering under his breath now. Kim could do nothing but watch, frowning as he wished that there was something he could do…

            …Wait.

            There _was_ something he could do!

            “Hey, I could be a model,” he interjected, grinning confidently, even at the startled look in Nathanael’s eyes once he opened them.

            “…I appreciate that you want to help, Kim,” Nathanael replied, tilting his head a little with that vague smile from earlier, as if he wanted to be as polite as possible in his refusal of such an idea. “But being a model is very rarely interesting for the models themselves. You’d have to stay still for very long periods of time—”

            “I can do that!” At Nathanael’s raised eyebrows, Kim pouted. “Don’t give me that look—I _can_ stay still! …If I try…really, _really_ hard…”

            Nathanael laughed, teal eyes sparkling with mirth.

            “Well…it’s not like I couldn’t use the practice, I guess,” he mused, “but Kim—are you sure? I don’t want to cut into your practice time—”

            “It’s totally fine,” Kim insisted with a careless wave of his hand. “Friends gotta help each other out, right? Just name a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”

            “…Okay, I’ll do that,” Nathanael agreed, smiling warmly. “Thanks, Kim.”

            Kim grinned.

            “Anytime, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

            Not fidgeting was a lot harder than Kim ever expected it to be.

            It wasn’t like he had to hold a crazy pose or anything either—though he had certainly tried, before Nathanael had instructed him to just sit down like a normal person instead of with his chest puffed out, or in a dab. Kim had complained that that wasn’t very exciting, but twenty minutes in, he was grateful for Nathanael’s foresight, for having to hold any of his previous poses right now would’ve been a _bitch._

            Nathanael’s dorm room was neat and tidy, save for a corner of the room that was covered in old newspapers and riddled with art supplies and an easel, the canvas splashed with paint, though no discernible shapes stuck out to Kim. They were not over in this corner, however—instead, Kim sat on Nathanael’s bed while he was seated in the chair at his desk, the only sound in the room the light scratches of Nathanael’s pencil, or the scrape of an eraser on paper as he undid a misplaced pencil stroke. His eyes shifted back and forth between Kim and his sketchbook, the glances to both brief, as if Nathanael didn’t actually have to look at what he was doing for very long. There was an implicit trust in his artist fingers that Kim found himself relating to—he never had to think about running, except to adjust his speed and pacing from time to time. It was a natural thing, easy as breathing, when his powerful legs propelled him across the earth, as if he could outrun the speed of light and sound—

            Damn it, now he wanted to go for a jog. Running was the wrong thing to think about right now.

            Kim’s fingers twitched as he sat there, trying not to move too noticeably. Huh…he never knew silence could be awkward. It wasn’t like he didn’t like hanging out with Nathanael—he was a cool dude, and Kim had known him practically forever, even if they didn’t become close until entering university together. But the fact that Nathanael kept looking at him without saying anything stirred him, and he didn’t know why…

            The next sweep of Nathanael’s eyes stayed longer than usual, and Kim found himself tensing at the change. He didn’t know why…maybe it was because he was unused to meeting both of Nathanael’s eyes, instead of focusing on just the one that wasn’t perpetually obscured by his hair. Nathanael seemed to pause for a second…and then he lowered his sketchbook into his lap, letting his pencil rest in his hand.

            “Are you done already?” Kim asked in surprise, wondering just how amazing Nathanael’s abilities had become.

            Nathanael chuckled at the assumption.

            “No. I just feel like you’re a little too tense. Relax a bit.”

            “Oh, yeah, sure, I can do that.” Kim cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders before settling back into his slouched over position, a hand dangling in between his knees as he rested his elbow on his thigh. “Better?”

            “Better.” Nathanael raised his sketchbook again, and kept his eyes upon it as he asked, “How’s your training going?”

            Kim blinked.

            “I thought I wasn’t supposed to move?”

            “You can talk,” Nathanael allowed with a smirk that smacked of amusement. “The movement of your mouth is a minute detail…though I’m going to have to ask that you don’t talk with your hands as much right now.”

            Kim frowned.

            “I don’t talk with my hands,” he denied, waving a hand through the air to assert his point…oh, wait. Damn it.

            Nathanael laughed, the sound free and easy. Kim felt himself swallow and frowned. Hmm…looked like he hadn’t hydrated enough today…

            “And training’s fine,” Kim answered the question to move past his slip, watching as Nathanael focused on his sketchbook, pencil gliding across the page. “I think we stand a good chance of flattening our competition next month.”

            Kim followed the slight curve of Nathanael’s lips with his eyes as he glanced up again, expression knowing.

            “You’re never anything short of confident, huh?”

            “You makin’ fun of me?” Kim challenged with a grin.

            “Not at all,” answered Nathanael, and the earnestness in his voice made Kim pause. “I really admire that about you.”

            Kim blinked. Well…that was…unexpected. He was always catching heat from someone (usually his coach) about being cocky, but to hear that someone actually _liked_ that about him…?

            Wow, it had gotten really warm in here all of a sudden. Kim cleared his throat. Jeez, how had he not had enough water today? That was a problem—if he was going to run, he _had_ to stay hydrated. He’d ask Nathanael for a break to do so in a few minutes.

            “Well, y’know…” he mumbled before petering off lamely, because he realized he had nowhere to go with that sentence. Nathanael seemed content to let it go, and silence fell between them once more as he sketched. Kim watched as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, teal eyes focused as he worked on capturing the rare sight of Kim in stillness. He really _did_ love his craft—it was obvious to anyone who watched him work. Idly, Kim wondered how many people had seen his focused look, and could guess from it just how deeply Nathanael felt about his work…

            Nathanael glanced up again. Abruptly, Kim realized he was staring and glanced away, at the walls. It would’ve been clear that an artist lived here from just one look at the posters on the walls, ranging from well-known works that even Kim could name, to obscure pieces he had never seen before. Kim searched, squinting at the scribbled signatures on each piece, but none of them looked familiar…

            “You don’t hang your own art up in your room?”

            Nathanael’s eyes were back on his sketchbook as Kim looked at him; there was more to the furrow of his brows now.

            “Why would I do that?” He asked idly, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “I haven’t made anything good enough to share wall space with my inspirations.”

            “Whaaaaat?” Kim exclaimed in surprise, hastily adjusting his posture afterwards, for he had straightened in alarm. “Dude, I went to the school’s art exhibit last year—your stuff is great!”

            Nathanael smiled vaguely.

            “Thanks,” he replied, but it didn’t really sound like he meant it; it sounded like he was saying it just to be polite. “But I want to be a whole lot more than ‘great’ before I think about adding my own work up on the walls. Besides,” he muttered after a moment, and Kim watched with intrigue as red invaded Nathanael’s fair skin. “It’s…kind of embarrassing, hanging my own stuff up. Doesn’t it seem a little…cocky?”

            Kim snorted.

            “Dude, if you’re gifted, you should be able to look up and remind yourself of just how talented you are without having to apologize for it.” He winked. “Take it from a guy who gets called ‘cocky’ fifty times a day.”

            Nathanael smiled again, and it was that slow, secret smile that took its time curving his lips, his eyes bright with amusement.

            “Well…it’s not like the people who call you that don’t have a point—”

            “Hey!” Kim complained with a scowl that he couldn’t hold for very long when Nathanael started laughing. It seemed like he had never done that much in _collegé_ …Kim was glad to see that he felt comfortable enough to do so now.

            The rest of their time was passed in back and forth banter, and when Nathanael finally announced that he was done, Kim made a show of stretching and sighing in relief, falling back on Nathanael’s bed. Oddly enough, however, there was a strange sense of letdown. Kim couldn’t place why at first…maybe because he’d been having so much fun that he kind of didn’t want it to end? He had always been one to overindulge, of course…

            He opened his eyes when a shadow fell over him, to find Nathanael leaning over him with an amused look.

            “Nap time?” He asked, and Kim snorted, propping himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t realize you modeling for me took so much out of you.”

            “Psh, I’m fine,” said Kim with a wave of his hand, his eyes going to Nathanael’s sketchbook, which sat abandoned upon his desk. “So, can I see it?”

            Nathanael’s eyes lit up.

            “You want to?”

            “Hell yeah!” Kim replied, a ‘duh’ tone included in his voice, though the way Nathanael looked so pleased that he wanted to see his work was…kind of endearing…

            Kim sat up fully as Nathanael went to retrieve his sketchbook, plopping down next to him before he passed it over, his expression laced with anticipation…and trepidation. It made Kim curious—was Nathanael afraid that Kim would hate it or something?

            “So?” Nathanael asked after Kim took the sketchbook and got a good look at the sketch. “What do you think?”

            “…”

            Kim heard the question…but honestly, he was having trouble articulating exactly how he felt about something that was _so damn awesome._ It was him, and yet, it was a _better_ him, something Kim had no idea was possible—somehow, Nathanael had made his slouching form look regal and careless, like a prince upon his throne with the world dancing in the palm of his hand. There wasn’t a single detail Nathanael had gotten wrong, except for maybe his face, because Kim wasn’t sure that he looked _that_ handsome…

            The abrupt thought that this was how Nathanael saw him struck Kim, and suddenly, his face was on fire.

            “…Um…”

            Nathanael’s soft voice brought Kim back to the present, and he looked over to find Nathanael looking at him anxiously, running a hand through his tied back hair self-consciously, the movement tugging his bangs loose so that they hung in his face, as if he wanted to hide himself from view.

            “Do you, uh…not like it?”

            “Dude, I _love_ it,” Kim assured him immediately, because he could not _stand_ to see the self-doubt in Nathanael’s eyes, couldn’t stand to see him think that this sketch was anything less than perfect. In fact, it was _so_ perfect— “Can I have it?”

            Nathanael stared at him. Kim’s thoughts caught up with his mouth a second later, and he grimaced.

            “Well, I mean…I don’t know if you need it for class or whatever, but if it’s just practice—”

            “You…really want it?” Nathanael asked, as if he couldn’t believe it. Kim almost scoffed, but he didn’t. Instead, he held Nathanael’s gaze, willing him with everything he had to believe it when he said:

            “I really do.”

            Ah, and there was the slow-curving smile—no, no, wait. This one bypassed a smile—it was a full-on grin, as if Kim had positively _delighted_ Nathanael. And it was a grin so bright that Kim felt himself swallow again, and slowly, an inkling occurred to him, that he might not be that thirsty after all…at least, not in _that_ way…

            “Sure,” Nathanael agreed, and it took Kim a second to realize he was talking about the sketch rather than confirming the swirling thoughts in his head. Hand outstretched, he grasped the sketchbook. “Just let me sign it…”

            “Okay…” Kim would’ve watched him sign it, just to see the way Nathanael’s wrist moved as his pencil flicked across the page, marking the art as his…marking the sketch of Kim as his…but his phone distracted him, ringing in the silence. Cursing under his breath, Kim dug his phone out from one of his pockets to silence his daily alarm that told him to go to practice. Damn, he hadn’t realized how much time had passed…

            “I gotta go,” he announced, getting to his feet with a sort of reluctance he dully felt as he shrugged his shoulders. “Gotta continue leaving losers in my dust.”

            “Your teammates must love you,” Nathanael joked, tearing the used page of his sketchbook out, turning with a smile to hand the sketch over. “Well, good luck with practice. And thanks for your help.”

            “Anytime,” Kim said, though it was with a little more feeling than the last time he had uttered such words. Barely able to manage a parting wave, Kim left the room, his legs automatically moving as fast as they could go, as if to outpace his suddenly racing heart. It wasn’t until he left Nathanael’s dorm building that he looked down at the sketch, wondering where Nathanael had stuck his signature.

            He found it in an instant, tucked away in the crease of Sketch Kim’s neck. Almost like a kiss.

            Kim stared.

            That…was so goddamn _cute._

            “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself without any real negativity, feeling pleasantly surprised and tingly all over as his face heated, all from such a simple gesture. His next words, though he had never spoken them before, were still matter of fact: “I’m gay.”


	2. Splatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the formatting, please: the coding in Word likes to give me grief. =_=
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> ~Reyna

Something was up with Kim.

            Nathanael couldn’t help but notice—it was a small sense, at first, little things that catalogued themselves into Nathanael’s brain without him making the conscious decision to take note of them.

            For example, once upon a time, Nathanael would sit at the patio outside the art building and not see hair or limb of Kim for days at a time. But then, suddenly, Kim was there, racing by every day, often stopping by to greet Nathanael and ask how his day was going. It was nice, Nathanael supposed, since usually, he and Kim rarely hung out during the week, too busy with their own classes, hobbies, and responsibilities. However, it was also kind of distracting, for Nathanael couldn’t sketch others passing by like he usually would; Kim was too energetic, and he absorbed all of Nathanael’s attention whenever he came by to chat.

            And then Nathanael started seeing a lot more of Kim on the weekends. This he brushed aside as well; since they had multiple friends in common, it wasn’t unheard of for him and Kim to bump into each other often. Except…well, usually, when they all hung out, Kim would dip out often for a quick run across campus; the guy ate, slept, and breathed track, of course, and he let everybody else know it, with his constant athlete-styled status messages on Facebook that their friends constantly roasted him for.

            This was no longer the case—whenever Nathanael dropped by Max’s to hang out during the weekend, Kim was hard-pressed to leave his side. This didn’t necessarily bother Nathanael…he just found it…a tad odd is all.

            The biggest oddity that Nathanael began to note was the model volunteering.

            “Hey, Nath. You in need of a model today?”

            “Yo, dude! When do you want me to act as your muse again?”

            “Hey, Rusty—whoa, hey, don’t glare at me like that, it was just a joke, man, sorry. Uh…I have some free time, if you need some quick anatomy practice or something. How ‘bout it?”

            He mentioned it at least five times a week: Nathanael couldn’t help but count, it was that constant. He took Kim up on his offers on occasion—he was a great model, how could Nathanael _not_ take advantage of such a kind offer? It was just…the _frequency_ of the offers was unexpected. And it made him wonder what was up.

            “Kim,” he began one day, fixing his friend with a curious look as he lounged across the table from Nathanael, perfectly at his leisure, despite the fact that he hadn’t finished his run yet. Normally, this would make him jittery as hell, eager to get back on the pavement…but today, he was so lax that it was beginning to concern Nathanael. “Is anything…wrong?”

            Kim blinked.

            “Er—wrong?” He questioned, scratching his cheek as he glanced away, appearing deep in thought. “Uh…well, I skipped breakfast today, which isn’t something I normally do, but I think that’s it…”

            Nathanael tilted his head, inspecting Kim for a moment. This seemed to make him uncomfortable after a second; he shifted in his seat, his face slowly turning red as he glanced away from Nathanael.

            “What?” He questioned, looking embarrassed. But this only made Nathanael _sure_ that something was wrong, because Le Chien Kim—the same Le Chien Kim who, on a dare, hit on nearly every girl at a party once and even got a few numbers out of the deal— _that_ Le Chien Kim, _embarrassed?_ It was unfathomable.

            “Are you okay?” Nathanael tried again, reaching over to pat Kim’s arm consolingly. Kim’s face grew redder still, and Nathanael wondered if he had a fever.

            “I’m great,” he said, his strangled voice conflicting with the words. He cleared his throat and got up so hastily that he nearly fell flat on his face, stumbling a second before he managed to catch himself, his arms windmilling in a ridiculous fashion. Nathanael muffled his snort, simply because it kind of looked like Kim wanted to die right then and there.

            “Er, I gotta go,” he sighed, shooting Nathanael a strange, anxious glance before he turned around, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Later, Nath.”

            “See you,” Nathanael said, his eyes trailing Kim as he slowly made his way back to the sidewalk, _walking_ out of sight.

            Nathanael frowned. Something was definitely wrong with Kim. He didn’t know what it was, but he was worried now.

            Packing up his sketchbook, Nathanael checked his watch. Hmm…his next class wasn’t for another hour…it was just enough time to pay a visit to the only other person who might be able to shed some light on this mysterious situation…

 

* * *

 

            “Hey, Max?”

            “One sec—I _see_ you there, you son of a bitch,” Max growled, focused on the colorful hero from the opposing team he was stalking. With a practiced hand, he flawlessly hit the combination of buttons that resulted in his character aiming her sniper rifle at the hero, blowing a hole right through their head.

            “ _Yes,_ ” Max hissed, a tiny fist pump at his side before he lowered his gaming headset, turning to face Nathanael.

Puberty had been very kind to Max—the soft curves of boyhood had given way to angular planes and the neat goatee that marked him a man, stylish, frameless glasses positioned over his warm, brown eyes, his flat top shaved down to the close cut he preferred nowadays, because he said wearing a headset with a flat top was ‘too much trouble’. He had also grown the tallest of all of Nathanael’s _collége_ friends, only dwarfed by Kim by about three centimeters (something he never let Max forget, even though Max couldn’t care less). Honestly, if Nathanael had met him in university, he’d be intimidated by how _cool_ he seemed; the older he got, the more he mellowed out, until he was practically the most chill dude Nathanael had ever met…except for when it came to video games. Then he was a _beast_.

            “What’s up, man?” Max asked, arching an eyebrow as Nathanael pulled himself out of his thoughts. “If you’re gonna stare, you’d better fork over some cash for the show. I got bills to pay.”

            Nathanael blinked. What an odd thing to say.

            “You’re not even naked,” he pointed out. Max’s eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead.

            “…I was talking about watching me play video games, man,” he said after a moment.

            “…Oh right, your streaming channel,” Nathanael suddenly recalled, feeling himself flush. How embarrassing. “Er, sorry.”

            “It’s cool,” Max said, smirking as he turned around to lean forward against the back of his chair. “I know people’d probably pay good money to see me naked, too, but I’m a modest kind of dude, you feel me?”

            “Right,” Nathanael muttered, starting to wonder why on earth he had come over here again. Oh, right. Kim. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Kim. Do you know if, uh, he’s been…bothered by anything lately?”

            “Why—is anything on fire?” Max asked with such a straight face that Nathanael couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.

            “No…just…I saw him earlier. He was all jumpy and nervous for no reason, and it made me worry that something was bothering him.”

            Max frowned, rubbing his chin as he thought.

            “Nervous and jumpy?” He repeated, giving Nathanael an inquiring look. Nathanael nodded.

            “Yeah.”

            “…Has he been walking around with a slight pout, like he’s upset about something?”

            Nathanael thought back, frowning at the memory of Kim’s pinched lips, a sight he saw just two days ago when Kim thought he wasn’t looking.

            “Yeah.”

            Now Max turned to sit properly in his chair, wheeling around to face Nathanael, his arms folded.

            “Does he turn red for no reason at all?”

            “Yes!” Nathanael confirmed, relieved that Max seemed to know what he was talking about. “Do you know why?”

            “Oh yeah.” Max gave a shrug, turning back to his computer monitor as he said simply, “Dude’s in love.”

            Nathanael blinked. Did…did he hear that correctly…?

            “Love?” He quoted, as if he had never heard of such a thing. Over the back of his chair, he saw Max’s head bob as he clicked around on his monitor; it looked like he was switching games.

            “Yeah. I watched him go through this when he realized he had feelings for Alix,” he said idly, double-clicking the icon of what looked like a chicken. As the game loaded, he glanced over at Nathanael once again. “He has too much energy to begin with. When he gets a crush, it gets two times as worse, especially if he isn’t sure about whether or not his crush likes him back.” Max rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer, adjusting the volume on his computer as pleasant flute music began to play through his headphones. “So he’s trying to hold himself back, which is something he’s not used to doing, and it makes him act all jittery and strung out. It’d be kind of funny if he wasn’t so pure.”

Max shook his head, like the waste of potential comedy was a shame. “Anyway, he’ll get over it once he asks the girl out. If they start dating, cool. If he gets rejected, he’ll mope for about a week, but then he’ll bounce back. I wouldn’t worry about him—he might try to hold himself back, but his patience will crack soon. Just let him be.”

            Nathanael frowned, considering Max’s words. Was it really okay to leave Kim like that? He looked ready to pop every time Nathanael saw him…and he had been seeing a lot of him lately…

            ‘ _Maybe he’s been trying to ask me for advice,_ ’ he supposed to himself, brushing his hair out of his face as he got to his feet. ‘ _I guess that’s why he’s been trying to get me alone—can’t let anyone else see the great Le Chien Kim asking for advice about dating, can he? …Though, I don’t really know why he’d come to_ me _of all people…maybe he wants to impress a girl with art, and he’s trying to pick up some tips…?_ ’

            The chime of his phone interrupted Nathanael’s train of thought, reminding him that he had to get to class soon.

            “Well, thanks, Max,” he called, stealing one last curious glance at Max’s computer monitor—it looked like he was picking up pixelated chickens and collecting their eggs. One of those farming games, then?

            “Later, man,” Max called, sparing a glance and a nod for Nathanael. “…Listen, if you’re still worried, come over this weekend. It’s Kim’s birthday, so we’re gonna go all out.”

            “Oh, that’s right,” Nathanael recalled, appreciative of the reminder. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to cheer Kim up about his crush, maybe give him courage…

            Ah, but Nathanael would think of what to do some other time. It was time for his anatomy class. Hopefully his professor would like his more recent project this time around…

 

* * *

 

            _“Nathanael…what is this? You’re doing the complete opposite of what I advised you to do, and now your art is suffering because of it. Do you understand how difficult it is to make it as an artist? The critics in the real world are much tougher, you know. If you can’t follow_ my _guidance, how do you expect to make it out there…?”_

Several hours later, the words were _still_ ringing in Nathanael’s head.

            And he was _furious._

            Who did that pompous, self-absorbed _prick_ of a professor think he was? It wasn’t enough to say all of that to Nathanael’s face, but then he proceeded to take Nathanael’s work and use it as an impromptu ‘what not to do’ seminar in front of the whole class! Constructive criticism, Nathanael could take, but _humiliation?_

            The night was quiet, save for the angry music playing from the stereo in the corner, echoing through the abandoned air of the art studio. Normally, no one was allowed in at night without a good reason, but whenever Nathanael needed to let off some steam, his favorite art professor, who was also his academic advisor, granted him entrance into one of the smaller studios of the art building. As long as he cleaned up after himself when he was done, there was never an issue.

            Nathanael stepped back from the canvas, scowling at the words he had written there. All his insecurities stared him in the face, words like “idiot”, “useless”, and “failure”, words that crawled into his brain in the wee hours of the night, whispering themselves in terrifying voices that refused to let him sleep. Every single bad thought he had ever had about himself and his art was written on this canvas, nearly carved with the marker Nathanael held, as if the canvas was his own skin. He let this marker drop now, and shed his shirt, tying his hair back with the rubber band hooked around his wrist for such an occasion.

            Now came the fun part.

            Surrounding Nathanael’s work area were several buckets of paint, an amalgamation of differently sized paintbrushes, and about an armful of spray paints. Nathanael examined his tools carefully, taking his time in deciding what he wanted to start with. Since he felt like flinging something, he selected the biggest paintbrush at his disposal, dipped it into the cyan paint—it was half-empty, he should really buy more soon—and flung the paint at the canvas. It splattered across the length of it, hardly blotting out any of the hurtful words there, but it was still more than completely satisfying. Grabbing a second and third brush, Nathanael dipped them in separate paints—lilac and rose—and repeated the process, uncaring when paint splattered onto him as well as the canvas. It was fine if he got a little messy; there was no one else here to see him—

            Something rattled behind him.

            Nathanael spun around, reacting instinctively; he raised the yellow paint can he had just picked up, ready to blind whoever had dared to intrude upon this sacred space—

            Kim threw his hands up in the air, eyes wide as he eyed the paint can in Nathanael’s hand.

            “Whoa, don’t shoot!” He requested, looking genuinely concerned. Nathanael sputtered a laugh, lowering the can.

            “You shouldn’t sneak up on other people like that, Kim,” he scolded playfully, tilting his head curiously at the mysterious appearance of his friend. How odd… “What’re you doing here?”

            Kim looked uncomfortable; Nathanael watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, scuffing his running shoes against the concrete floor of the studio.

            “Well…I was on my evening run, and I saw you bringing stuff in here…” He glanced at Nathanael, and then away again, his face glowing red. “Uh, if I’m bothering you, I can go…”

            Nathanael shrugged…and then suddenly realized he was shirtless. He felt himself flush, embarrassed. God, he was so pale…had it not been for the paint that spotted his torso, he was certain he would be blinding Kim right now.

            “I don’t mind if you stay,” he said honestly, giving Kim a sheepish look. “But, uh, I’m not in the best of moods right now…”

            “Why, what happened?”

            Nathanael sighed, turning back to his canvas.

            “It isn’t even worth putting into words, honestly,” he said darkly, leaning over for another paintbrush. “So I’m just here venting.”

            “Dude…” When Nathanael straightened up again, it was to find that Kim had moved closer; he was staring at the canvas over Nathanael’s shoulder, a worried crease in the middle of his brow. “…Did somebody actually _say_ all this shit to you?”

            Nathanael shrugged again, frowning at the canvas in distaste.

            “Some of them,” he admitted. He glanced back to find Kim scowling, puffed up with his fists on his hips.

            “Whose ass do I have to kick?” He wanted to know, cracking his knuckles menacingly…or it would have been menacing, if Nathanael didn’t find him so adorable. He laughed softly, shaking his head.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, smiling in reassurance when Kim continued to look ready to fight somebody. It was sweet, how eager he was to correct a perceived slight on Nathanael’s character… “I’ll be fine as soon as I get this all out.”

            Kim eyed him now, and Nathanael felt himself blush again. He must look ridiculous, splattered in paint like this…

            “…So the idea is to throw paint at the canvas until the words are all covered up?” Kim seemed to want to confirm. Nathanael nodded, feeling a little shy. Was this an odd coping mechanism? He couldn’t be sure—no one had ever discovered him at this before…

            Kim’s next words managed to surprise him as much as his sudden presence here:

            “Need some help?”

            Nathanael stared at him. Again, Kim flushed red, and he glanced away from Nathanael, laughing nervously.

            “Uh, I mean…if this a personal thing that you gotta do on your own, you don’t have to—you know what, forget it, I didn’t mean to bug you, I—”

            “Kim,” Nathanael interrupted, laughing a little at the contrite look Kim wore, his shoulders rounded, as if he was afraid he was about to be reprimanded. “It’s okay. …Admittedly, I’ve never had someone else with me when I do this. It’s a private thing; there are a lot of insecurities I’m still working through…” Nathanael paused, smiling. “But…I know I can trust you, Kim.”

            Ah…there was a sudden glowing, there in Kim’s dark eyes, like Nathanael had just presented him with the most thoughtful gift a person could ever gift him. …It was lovely. Nathanael wondered if he could ever recreate such a look in his sketchbook, but the look was so good and so pure that he doubted his ability to capture it in art form immediately.

            “Really?” Kim asked him, in a much smaller voice than Nathanael was used to him using. This made him curious, his head tilting as he inspected Kim. He didn’t actually think he was a nuisance, did he?

            “Really,” Nathanael confirmed with a nod…but then he cringed. “Er…but your clothes might get messed up…”

            Kim shrugged.

            “It’s only paint,” he pointed out, glancing down at his jogging outfit. “And it’s only my sweats, too...” He frowned slightly. “But I kinda like this shirt…”

            Nathanael gave an easy shrug.

            “So take it off,” he said, turning back to his paints to rearrange them, making them more accessible to Kim. Behind him, Kim made a strange, sort of choked noise. When Nathanael glanced over at him, it was to find that his face was the most red he had ever seen it, causing Nathanael’s eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Kim muttered, looking away from Nathanael as he tugged uncertainly at the hem of his shirt. “Nothing…”

Kim was getting stranger by the minute…Nathanael was beginning to question if Max actually knew what he was talking about in regards to Kim’s jumpy behavior, for there were certainly no girls around here right now…

“…Or you can leave it on?” Nathanael offered uncertainly, unsure of where Kim’s nervousness was stemming from. He was further confused when Kim suddenly shook his head furiously.

“No, no, I’ll take it off! I mean…” he cleared his throat, cringing at the way it cracked. “…It’s fine,” he said in a tone that sounded marginally more calm. Seriously, what was up with him…?

Nathanael politely looked away as Kim shed his shirt, focusing on what new color he wanted to splash onto the canvas of self-abuse. Black was too easy for these exercises; it would take no time at all to blot out such words, which defeated the purpose of the venting session. Nathanael preferred the brightest colors he could find for things like this, because such dark, ugly words being defeated by bright, lovely colors was cathartic.

He was choosing such a color, picking up the yellow paint can again, when Kim cleared his throat. Nathanael turned to him again, noting the way he was standing, his arms held awkwardly at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. But Nathanael’s artist eyes were drawn immediately to the rich color of his skin, tanned from running in the sun shirtless, no doubt. Though Kim was muscular, it was in a lean way, the body of a runner—there were no bulging muscles in his abdomen to make Nathanael self-conscious about his slim frame, but he _was_ toned. Sweat glittered in between the planes of his abdominal muscles; Nathanael idly traced the lines in his mind, cataloguing exactly how he would move his pencil to capture the light and shadow of Kim’s upper body…

“Um.”

With a jolt, Nathanael realized he was staring. He blinked, startled, feeling himself blush all the way up to the roots of his hair. Oh crap, what was he _doing?_

Even as he began to mentally berate himself for being a creep, Kim wasn’t looking at him like that. Strangely enough, there was a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though he looked just as embarrassed at Nathanael felt; he scratched his cheek with a finger, grinning in an uncertain way.

“So, uh…how do we do this?” He asked, gesturing at the art supplies surrounding them. “We just throw paint?”

Slowly, Nathanael nodded. If Kim could push past the awkward moment, so could he.

“Yeah, we just—no, not like that!” He grabbed Kim’s arm to prevent him from fully lifting the paint bucket he had just grabbed. Kim gave him a confused look.

“What? I thought we were supposed to be covering up the words?”

“Yeah, but if you just upend a bucket over the canvas, it defeats the purpose!” Nathanael insisted, laughing at Kim’s eagerness. “And besides, I have to clean up after I’m finished here, so if you dump paint all over the floor, I’ll be here all night.”

“Oh.” Kim cringed, lowering the bucket back to the floor. “I didn’t even think about that, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Nathanael allowed, grinning now. “Just pick a paintbrush or a can, and _then_ you can go crazy.”

Kim nodded, still looking a little wry. But he soon settled down, even returning to his free and easy nature as the time passed between them, bantering back and forth as they tossed and blotted and splattered and sprayed, transforming ugliness into something beautiful. And Nathanael felt better, but this was a different kind of better now—though these sessions were usually meant for him to get out all of his aggressions and insecurities, it was actually _fun_ with Kim here. Nathanael’s stomach hurt from laughing so much, and by the time he deemed the art—their combined art—finished, they were both smeared in paint, mostly from flinging it at the canvas, but partially because Kim had thought it would be funny to smear cold paint down Nathanael’s back, and they had spent a minute or two in a paint war that left them covered in the stuff, paint blending together to create new colors on their bodies.

Nathanael inspected the completely covered canvas, proud. It was probably the best one yet—there were actual hand prints on this one, making it more personal, as if the hands of Nathanael’s soul, and Kim’s too, were working to blot out every terrible, ugly thought Nathanael had ever had about himself. Having the support of a friend in this turned out to be a better idea than Nathanael could have ever predicted.

There was warmth on his shoulder, a rough sensation. Nathanael looked over at Kim, who stood behind him, his dried paint-caked hand on his shoulder. Despite the stripe of red paint smeared down his cheek, his face was uncharacteristically serious as he stared at the canvas, frowning slightly.

“…Man,” he sighed, glancing over at Nathanael, concern in his dark eyes. “I really can’t believe you think half of the stuff you wrote on there about yourself.”

Ah.

Nathanael glanced away, attempting a casual shrug. It was only partially successful.

“Everybody has their bad days,” he muttered, reaching up to tug at his hair. But his hand was caught, and Nathanael glanced over in surprise, the emotion doubling at the sincere look that crossed Kim’s features.

“Yeah, but Nath—I can’t believe that _you_ believe in those words, even if it’s only a little bit.” He shook his head, as if he found Nathanael unfathomable. “Don’t you get how talented and inspiring and amazing you are? I mean, I know I probably don’t really ‘get’ art the way you do, but every time I see something _you_ made?”

And there it was again—that look that positively _glowed_ , there in Kim’s eyes. Nathanael couldn’t believe he was aiming such a look at _him_ —truly, it was too pure to be wasted on him, wasn’t it? And yet there he was, regarding Nathanael as if he had personally painted the stars in the sky.

“Every time I see something you made,” Kim continued, apparently oblivious to the steady rise of heat in Nathanael’s face, “I think to myself, ‘Wow, I actually _know_ the guy who did that.’ And that’s _awesome._ ”

Oh god. Despite him being shirtless, it was suddenly so _warm_ in here. Nathanael blamed it on the praise Kim had just lavished on him, for while a good part of him was ready to shun such beautiful words, a hidden part of him that had grown without his noticing thrilled to the praise, this influx of positive emotions too much. He needed an outlet for these warm fuzzy feelings…

“Whoever you have a crush on is so lucky,” he said.

Kim stared at him. Nathanael stared back, uncomprehending of the way Kim’s face went completely red like that, what was he embarrassed for…?

And then Nathanael’s mind caught up to the words he had uttered unconsciously.

And then it was _his_ turn to blush so hard he was in danger of passing out.

“Oh,” he mumbled, scrambling for words, but he had forgotten how they worked, and dear lord, now the _room_ was on fire, he was so hot from embarrassing himself. Why was he like this?? “Uh, I mean…that is…I meant…”

He should _really_ just stop talking, especially because he had just realized that he would actually be _jealous_ of whoever Kim chose to be with, because he was such a good guy, and Nathanael was kicking himself for realizing this at the worst possible moment, and oh jeez, now Kim was looking at him funny; he was probably weirding him out, because who _said_ such a strange thing to someone like that, what was he, a moron? And the longer he waited to say something that made sense, the worse his embarrassment grew, and he wanted to just _die_ right now, because that would be much easier than recovering from this moment, go ahead, let a dark, black hole just open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole, he wouldn’t even question it, he would just gratefully accept his fate—

It happened in an instant.

One minute, Nathanael was having his silent panic attack as Kim looked at him, something warring in his dark gaze that Nathanael couldn’t make out through his own blind panic—

The next minute, rough, paint-caked hands were on his face…and firm lips were pressed against his.

Nathanael froze, his nervous system shutting down, as if someone had unplugged him, and now he just stood there, locked in place while chaos reigned in his mind, attempting to get everything back online.

This kiss was strange. No, not because it was happening—holy shit, _this was happening_ —but because it didn’t feel anything like the way Nathanael would’ve thought Kim kissed like (and he was both surprised and unsurprised to find that he had actually given this matter a lot of thought previously). On a normal day, Kim was all fox, brimming with confidence in everything he did (or tried to do), so naturally, Nathanael had thought that Kim’s kisses would be the same, strong and self-assured.

He was dead wrong—though the action, the decision to kiss Nathanael in the first place, seemed to be firm, Kim’s lips trembled, like he was _nervous._ His eyes were shut tight—Nathanael could see them because his were wide open, frozen that way in shock—and his face was completely scarlet at this point. He looked so shy…

Nathanael’s heart was throwing itself against his rib cage in a wild attempt to escape from his chest, he could only assume, but he couldn’t make his body respond, couldn’t register anything else but the great surprise that Kim, _Le Chien Kim_ , wanted someone like _him._

All too soon, Kim broke the kiss. Nathanael assumed it was because he hadn’t responded—couldn’t _make_ himself respond. Even now, as he screamed inside his skull at himself to _do something_ , his body would not obey. He could only stare, watching as Kim bowed his head, apparently unable to even look at him.

The refusal to meet his eyes _hurt_ Nathanael.

“……” Kim sighed, running a hand down his face, smearing dried blue paint there. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…I…” He shook his head, like there were no more words. He turned away from Nathanael, shoulders slumped. “I’ll go now. Sorry.”

“Kim—” Nathanael wanted to say, _tried_ to say, but his mouth refused to cooperate, as if his body was openly rebelling, refusing to grant him the happiness that had just been presented to him before it was snatched away—

Ah…it was too late: Kim was already running. Nathanael could only watch helplessly as he took off for the door, still graceful, even as he fled from what was surely a mortifying experience for him. He must think that Nathanael hated him…

The door swung shut, the sound echoing through the studio, seeming to overshadow the music that still played from Nathanael’s phone nearby.

“…Your shirt…” he managed to get out, the words useless; Kim was already gone, and even if he realized he was currently shirtless, Nathanael very much doubted that he would come back and face him just to get it. Mechanically, Nathanael bent down to get it, the fabric dry, despite the fact that Kim had been running earlier that evening. Nathanael stared at the red shirt, his hands covered in lilac…huh, weird. He could’ve sworn the color was blue a minute ago…

Nathanael sighed, all the air whooshing out of him.

It was funny, in a way: the minute he realized he wanted nothing more than to be with Kim—the very _second_ the opportunity was presented to him—he managed to screw it up, and now, there was no coming back from this.

Idiot. Useless. Failure.

Nathanael turned back to the canvas. He had been looking forward to showing Kim the next part—the fire pit he would take the canvas to be burned, thereby cleansing him of all the negative feelings in himself…at least until they returned. He wondered what Kim would’ve said...maybe he would’ve found it a waste of paint…or maybe the thought of involving fire would’ve excited him. He would never know now.

One of Kim’s handprints was distinct on the canvas. Nathanael remembered why—it was because the word “coward” was there, written under the blue handprint. As soon as Nathanael had given the okay, Kim and dipped his hand into the paint and blotted out the word, erasing it from existence with one firmly placed hand, stating just as firmly that it shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

_“Dude, you let your art be seen by a bunch of strangers on a regular basis. If that doesn’t take guts, then I don’t know what does.”_

How did he do that? How did Kim, with something as simple as words, manage to make Nathanael see himself through his eyes, as this incredible, talented being with absolutely no flaws whatsoever? Was he magic?

Nathanael raised his left hand, pressing it against the print Kim had left behind. His spirits sunk as he realized this handprint, while beautiful, was a lie. He _was_ a coward—he had just let Kim go and let him think that his affection was unwanted, didn’t he? He could’ve said something, could’ve stopped him, but he didn’t, did he?

Nathanael closed his eyes, letting loose a short huff.

Kim apparently didn’t see him clearly—he only saw an ideal of Nathanael, someone Nathanael was striving to be, rather than who he actually was. Nathanael wasn’t courageous at all: he was cowardly, and he had probably just let something that could’ve been so amazing just…slip through his paint coated fingers…

Nathanael opened his eyes again, staring at the handprint…a handprint that was no doubt pressed to his face as well, right where Kim had touched him, so gently, as if he was someone to be treasured…someone worthy of Kim’s goodness.

Idly, Nathanael’s fingertips brushed his cheek, feeling the dried paint there.

It was too late—he had let Kim walk out the door without saying anything, so now, his chances with him were ruined…

…Unless…


	3. Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, IGNORE THE FORMATTING. Stupid Word. =_=
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

            There came a knock to the door, this one not as patient as the few before it. And just like the few before it, Kim ignored it, burrowing further into his blankets to sulk. From behind the door, he could hear a put-out sigh.

            “Dude, what are you even _doing_ in there? It’s been three days!”

            “Go away, Max,” Kim groaned.

            Instead of heeding him like the first few times, however, Max invited himself in. He took one look at Kim, burritoed in his blankets, and his expression fell flat.

            “ _Bruh._ ”

            Kim groaned again and rolled over (with some difficulty) so he wouldn’t have to look at Max.

            “Leave me here to _die,_ ” he said dramatically, staring dejectedly at the wall. There was another huff, the sound of footsteps, and the squeak of the mattress as it sank a few more inches with Max’s added weight.

            “Look, man, ya gotta get out of this funk you’re stuck in,” Max insisted, nudging Kim’s back. “Not only is it unhealthy, but it kinda throws a wrench into this party I spent all week planning for your birthday.”

            At the word ‘party’, Kim monetarily perked up…only to remember that he was miserable, and he slipped right back into his gloom.

            “I don’t feel like partying,” he admitted. There was silence for a moment…and then he felt weight pressed onto his side. He glanced over, finding Max leaning on and staring at him, adjusting his glasses, as if he needed to see him better.

            “…Huh,” Max hummed, his brows furrowing. “…I wanna say that I _think_ I know what your problem is…but to be honest, I’ve never seen you this broken up about a crush gone wrong before.”

            Kim felt his face catch fire. Oh _god,_ was it _that_ obvious? Or did Max just know him too well at this point? Hmm, it might be a mix of both…

            “I…it’s…” Kim sighed, wriggling out from under Max’s weight and breaking free of his blanket cocoon…for the most part. His blanket was still draped over his shoulders as he scooted to the edge of his bed, leaning over with his head in his hands. “God, Max. I fucked up so bad.”

            “How do you mean?”

            “Like, I _legit_ just realized I had these feelings for N—for this…person…and now, it’s like I can’t get h— _them_ —out of my head. And then I went and _kissed_ them without warning, and the look on his face—”

            …Wait. He just said ‘his’, didn’t he? _Fuck!_

            Resisting the urge to slam his head into something solid (not that it would do anything), Kim quickly glanced over at Max, almost hoping that his friend hadn’t heard his slip.

            Max merely blinked at him.

            “…What?” He asked after a silent moment, raising an eyebrow. Kim shifted, uncomfortable. He…hadn’t had the chance to fully talk this over with anyone…he was just coming to grips with the fact that he was bisexual, though it seemed obvious the more he thought about it—suddenly all those jokes he made about getting with certain good-looking male celebrities didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore. Still, he hadn’t actually made the time to _actually_ discuss this with someone…

            And yet here Max was, all casual about the fact that Kim had just outed himself. Did he actually understand the situation, or was he just assuming that Kim had misspoken?

            Watching his friend’s face carefully, Kim began again.

            “Nothing…just…when a—a guy—just stares at you after you kiss him…that’s…that’s pretty much a rejection…isn’t it?”

            Max’s face adopted that expression he normally got when he was thinking critically about something, scratching his goatee as he thought.

            “…I dunno, man,” he replied unhelpfully after a moment, shrugging. “It depends on the guy, doesn’t it?”

            “…I guess,” Kim replied, mild disbelief crossing his senses as Max continued to be…well, _cool_ about the situation. Sure, not a lot tended to faze Max, unless there was a video game controller in his hand, but still…

            Apparently oblivious to Kim’s confusion, Max clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

            “Listen, dude, I know you. You’re not the type of guy to let anything stop you from being happy, so if you just need some more time to get over this, then I’ll cancel the party tonight.”

            “Oh, no,” Kim said, shaking his head. “No, don’t do that. I appreciate the thought, but…seems kinda rude to cancel a party at the last minute.” He tried for a smile, and was surprised by how easy it was to fake it. “Besides, maybe I just need a little booze and the company of some cool people to get over it. Ya never know.”

            “You sure? Don’t feel like you have to force yourself to be cheerful—”

            “I’m not,” Kim interrupted, throwing off his blanket to stand proudly in his boxer shorts. “It’s my birthday, and I’ll party if I want to!”

            Max snorted, getting up with a shake of his head.

            “If you say so, bro. Ya might wanna shower and get dressed before seven tonight, though.”

            “It’s my party, and I’ll be as naked and smelly as I want to,” Kim refuted, grinning as Max rolled his eyes.

            “Fine, whatever. Just don’t be surprised if people don’t wanna come near your naked, smelly ass.”

            Kim watched as Max trekked across the room, apparently done with him for the moment. As his friend set one foot out in the hall, Kim found that he suddenly couldn’t stand to stay silent.

            “Max…I’m bi.”

            Max paused, turning to look at Kim with slightly raised eyebrows.

            “…Yeah, I got that,” he answered, the corner of his lips twitching. “You talking about kissing a guy kind of tipped me off.”

            Kim stared, astonished now. Sure, he was glad that Max was being so cool about it, but also, he was confused. After all, Kim had only ever dated girls…wasn’t Max curious about where this sudden shift came from?

            His feelings must have been obvious on his face, for Max snorted, leaning against his doorframe.

            “Bruh, calm down. This is the 21st century: _everyone’s_ gay.”

            This made Kim frown.

            “This isn’t a phase, Max—”

            “I didn’t say it was. Just stating facts.”

            “But _you’re_ not gay…”

            The slow lift of Max’s eyebrows made Kim stare, his jaw dropping of its own accord.

            “Wait… _you’re_ gay?!”

            Max snorted.

            “I’m ace, actually,” he said casually.

            “Oh…” Kim blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, blinked some more. “I…oh. I had no idea…”

            “Doesn’t really come up in conversation a lot,” Max said with an easy shrug. “But it’s cool. Not like I’m not comfortable discussing it—I tell people who ask. Just not a lot of people ask. To each their own, y’know?”

            Oh. Well. Kim supposed that made sense.

            And it was a _huge_ relief, too, to know that his best friend would understand this part of him, too.

            Again, the relief must have been evident, for Max snorted, moving back inside the room to bump his fist against Kim’s shoulder.

            “You are who you are, man. No need to be self-conscious around me—if our friendship has survived this long, then I think it’s pretty obvious that you’ll be stuck with me for forever at this point.”

            At this, Kim allowed himself to smile.

            “Even if I think Counterstrike is the coolest video game ever…?”

            Max’s expression immediately fell flat once again.

            “Scratch that—you’re dead to me now.”

 

* * *

 

            By the time seven rolled around, Kim had actually worked up some enthusiasm for the party: the music was good, as was the food and the booze, and the congregation of people were cool, not to mention the presents were slowly but surely piling up…it was a little bigger of a party than he had been anticipating, but either way, Kim believed it was shaping up to be a good night.

            His first mistake was assuming that Nathanael wouldn’t show up.

            His second mistake was gawking at Nathanael, as if that would somehow make his existence make sense, until Nathanael looked in his direction and caught his gaze.

            His third mistake? Not immediately ducking out of sight. Now he was stuck there, next to the beer table, watching helplessly as Nathanael slowly made his way through the crowded living room. Towards him.

            Oh god. Oh god, he was screwed. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god, oh _jeez_ —

            “Hi,” Nathanael said once he was near enough, smiling slightly. Kim swallowed, unable to get over the tank top and sleeveless hoodie Nathanael wore, slim arms on display—whoa, was that a new tattoo? When had he gotten _that?!_

            “Uh, h-hey,” Kim replied a beat too late, immediately self-conscious; he downed half his beer in an attempt to steady his nerves, but a lot of it ended up splashing over his face instead. A couple girls that were standing on the other side of the table laughed at him, and Kim hurriedly dried his face on his sleeve, feeling himself blush from his chin to his roots.

            _Why_ did he have to go to pieces _now?!_ And he was finally cheering up, too! _Damn_ it!

            Nathanael, bless him, made no comment about Kim slopping beer over himself. He shifted next to Kim for a second, his eyes dropping down to his shoes for a moment before he glanced up at Kim.

            “Happy birthday,” he wished. Kim swallowed again and gave a nod.

            “Thanks. You too,” he said, before realizing his mistake, and suddenly, he was seized with the strong desire to drown himself in the punch bowl. Good god, this conversation—nay, this _night_ —could _not_ get any worse.

            Again, Nathanael seemed oblivious to Kim’s bumbling…but he _was_ looking at him funny, Kim couldn’t help but notice, despite his current mortification. He clutched his beer bottle tighter the longer Nathanael stared, torn between the thrill that shot through him, knowing he had Nathanael’s full attention…and a strong desire to run screaming from the room. It wasn’t clear which whim was winning when Nathanael finally opened his mouth, seeming to take a breath.

            “Kim—”

            “All right, kids, time for a drinking game!” Max called, appearing from nowhere and hooking an arm around Kim’s neck, dragging him away from Nathanael and steering him to the center of the living room, where everyone was making themselves comfortable on the floor. “Let’s start off with a rousing game of ‘Never Have I Ever’!”

            There was a universal cheer, and Kim’s half-drunk beer was replaced with a fresh bottle, courtesy of Max and a few other helpful party-goers. As the distribution was going on, Kim watched, torn between sadness and relief, as Nathanael took a seat on the floor across the circle from him, as Max filled in the free spot on Kim’s right.

            “Let’s start with the birthday boy,” he decided, smirking at the aggrieved look Kim gave him.

            “You know I suck at this game,” he said.

            “Yeah, what _hasn’t_ Kim done at least once on a dare? Let’s be real,” Alix commented, the statement followed by laughter and choruses of agreement. Max shrugged with a grin.

            “Point taken. All right, I’ll start: never have I ever stripped in public for cash.”

            “Tch,” Chloe huffed as she and a beet red Sabrina took a drink. “Cheap shot.”

            “That _was_ an entertaining night, though,” Alix said with a wink, causing Chloe to blush.

            “Your turn,” Max prompted, nudging Alix. She made a face at him and made a show of tapping her chin.

            “Okaaaaay…never have I ever…dyed my hair to impress a prince from a foreign country.”

            “That was _one time,_ and he was _gorgeous,_ and I _do not appreciate being ganged up on!_ ” Chloe asserted, slamming her beer bottle down onto the floor in some irritation.

            “Okay, okay, let’s be a bit more vague about the callouts from now on,” Max joked. Slowly, they went around the circle, swigs taken for every ‘have done’, laughter and japes exchanged at the obvious targets of some ‘never have I ever’s. Finally, it was Nathanael’s turn, and Kim could not help but be hyper-aware of him as he thought, idly turning the beer bottle in between his artist fingers.

            “Never have I ever…”

            Suddenly, he looked up, and his eyes locked with Kim’s.

            “…Never have I ever had a kiss I did not enjoy.”

            Kim stared, his mouth coming open with a pop. There were giggles and chattering around him as a couple people drank, but he could not focus on anything that was _not_ Nathanael’s face, the way a slow blush warmed his cheeks and neck, at the quirk at the corner of his lips, as if he wanted to both smile and tempt Kim all at the same time…

            Kim didn’t remember how, but suddenly, he was on his feet.

            “Kim?”

            “What’s up with you?”

            “Where are you going?”

            “Uh,” he began, unsure of how to put into words how much he needed to be alone with Nathanael right now. “I, er…”

            “Oh,” Max suddenly said, getting to his feet as well. “Sorry, man, I forgot—you and Nath need to work out the details for your next Chemistry lab, right?”

            Kim stared, gratitude for his best friend flooding through him as Max gave him a subtle wink. Bless Max Kante, best of all best friends, and the greatest wingman Kim could ever ask for.

            “Oh, that’s right,” Nathanael agreed at once, getting to his feet as well, casually flicking red hair out of his face. “We should probably take care of that before we forget.”

            “Ugh, _no homework,_ ” Alix complained, covering her ears with her hands. “It’s the _weekend,_ you goddamn _nerds._ ”

            “Well it’s kinda due on Monday, so…” Nathanael lied easily, and with a casual shrug.

            “Right, yeah, so…” Kim trailed off, jerking a thumb at his bedroom. Nathanael nodded, and Kim couldn’t believe his luck.

            “Have fun with your chemistry,” Max joked in an undertone as he passed, and Kim let out a bark of nervous laughter that only had him walking faster to his room, if only to hide in shame for a moment or two.

            “Okay, on with the game! Never have I ever—”

            Whatever Max had never done was cut off by Nathanael shutting the door behind him. The party noises were muffled, and though it wasn’t silent in the room, Kim still _felt_ the quiet. By shutting the door and cutting them off from the rest of the apartment, it was like Kim and Nathanael were the only two in existence…

            While that normally would make Kim _extremely_ self-conscious…considering the circumstances…

            _“…Never have I ever had a kiss I did not enjoy.”_

Even though he blushed, Kim reminded himself to be cool. Nathanael had taken the first step by letting him know—in front of all their friends, no less—that he didn’t hate Kim. That was great. The hard part was over. Nathanael had taken the first step…now Kim just had to make sure he didn’t fuck up from here.

            He finally looked up, at Nathanael, who was resting against his closed bedroom door, looking at him, his eyes careful. After a deep, slow breath, Kim spoke.

            “…Can we talk?”

            Nathanael smiled a little.

            “I think we should,” he replied. Kim nodded, swallowing his fear and anxiety, something tingling within him, as if to signal to him that, if he let it, something amazing would happen…

            Well—here goes nothing.

 

* * *

 

            Nathanael had never known silence to be so loud before.

            This was ridiculous—he and Kim _should_ be talking, but for the past five minutes, all they had done was sit on his bed and glance at each other awkwardly. To be fair, it wasn’t like Kim wasn’t trying—he frequently opened his mouth, as if what he wished to say was just on the tip of his tongue…but he always ended up sighing and looking away, his cheeks tinged red. Nathanael was trying to be polite and let Kim say what he had on his mind…but it didn’t seem like that would actually happen anytime soon, so…

            “Um,” he began slowly, pulling his gift for Kim out of his bag and carefully handing it over. “Happy birthday.”

            It worked—Kim was distracted from his awkwardness as soon as his eyes fell upon the orange wrapping paper.

            “Whoa, you got me a present?”

            “Isn’t that traditional for birthday parties?” Nathanael teased. Kim’s fingers brushed his as he took the present, and Nathanael felt himself flush. Oh boy…he was already in so deep, wasn’t he…? “I, uh, hope you like it.”

            Kim wasted no time in tearing through the wrapping paper, which made Nathanael thankful that he had bothered to frame his work in the first place, or the enthusiastic athlete would have shredded through that as well. He waited, holding his breath as Kim removed all of the wrapping paper…and stared.

            There were a lot of things Nathanael would change about the way he painted this portrait of Kim: he wished he had had more time to work on it, he wished that he had been able to actually have Kim as a model instead of just painting from memory, and he so _desperately_ wished for tools from the gods to be able to accurately recreate the glow in Kim’s eyes when he smiled the way he did…but he supposed, for a rush job, that it was pretty good. But what he thought of it didn’t matter _nearly_ as much as what Kim thought of it…

            But Kim didn’t say anything. After a minute or two of him just staring at it, Nathanael’s insecurity pushed him to speak.

            “Uh…is it…okay?”

            Still, Kim said nothing…until a long sigh suddenly burst from him.

“Ahhh,” Kim huffed, and Nathanael watched, perplexed, as he set the painting aside, sliding off his bed and sinking to the floor, hands cupped over the back of his neck. “This really sucks.”

“The painting?”

“No, no!” Kim denied, not moving from his position as he shook his head furiously. “The painting’s _awesome_ , I love it. What sucks is…is…”

He mumbled the next part, too low for Nathanael to hear. He slid off the bed too, crouching down and tilting his head to peer into Kim’s red face.

“Pardon?” He asked softly, seeking Kim’s eyes. Once Kim met his gaze, his face flushed darker, and he let out a huff.

“…I’ve been trying _really_ hard not to fall in love with you,” he grumbled, glancing away as he ruffled his hair.

For a moment, Nathanael couldn’t speak—the genuine honesty was too much, and it almost choked him with emotion. When he had managed to talk himself out of throwing his arms around Kim and kissing him until neither of them cared that air was a necessary thing, he cleared his throat and attempted to be calm…minus the goofy grin he could feel spreading across his face.

“Why?” He dared to ask. Kim slid a glance back to him, wry.

“I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted. Nathanael burst into startled laugher; he didn’t think Kim was afraid of anything.

“What if I hold your hand on the way down?” He suggested. Kim considered, and then, very slowly, reached for Nathanael’s hand. Nathanael laced his fingers with Kim’s, and Kim smiled the shyest smile Nathanael had ever seen on him, god, he was _adorable._

“…It’s a little better,” he admitted, and Nathanael chuckled again.

“…Kim,” he began, waiting until Kim met his gaze again before he allowed himself to smile, his cheeks warming. “I like you. A lot.”

Kim blushed, and Nathanael readily accepted the fact that he was screwed when it came to the unexpectedly adorable athlete next to him. Truthfully, he never would have seen this coming, but now that he was here…well, he was just so happy that he didn’t let this slip by him.

“I…I like you a lot, too,” Kim mumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. Nathanael grinned more broadly.

“So…do you think we can continue that kiss from the other night?” Nathanael blushed as Kim stared at him. “Uh, I mean, uh, if you want to—”

Nathanael’s stuttering was interrupted by Kim pulling him forward, firmly planting his lips against his. Nathanael shut his eyes this time and quickly lost himself in the moment, because _this_ was how he imagined Kim always kissed—firmly, confidently, and full of passion. …But, then again, maybe Nathanael was just special.

“Wow,” he breathed when they broke for air a few seconds—minutes—hours?—later. Kim chuckled, and it was him who was brushing Nathanael’s hair out of his eyes now.

“That’s my line. Also: best birthday ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-reading this reminded me just how much I love them together and I NEED TO WRITE MORE OF THEM. *_*
> 
> Ahem. In any case, hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


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